The Lost City
by GhostessofNight
Summary: I had always wish I could go on an adventure. With fighting, a treasure, or some sort of goal, new places and people, and seeing things that people say don’t exist. But everyone knows what they say; be careful what you wish for. It might come true."
1. Prologue

Right

**NOTE:** Well, I've always been an Indiana Jones fan, ever since I was a little kid, so, here we are… please don't flame too much, but still, please review! Enjoy!

Right. I loved my university, my classes, and my teachers. Sure, I was considered a bit of a geek there, but I did have friends… but what I didn't love was that git of a boy, Henry Jones III, also known as 'Mutt.' Everyone has enemies, and he was one of mine; he had dropped out of school, but had managed – unfortunately – to get into this school. His dad was one of my favorite teachers, who was also an adventurer and archaeologist… I had found out he was the infamous Indiana Jones by accident, after class, when someone had come in, and both of them conveniently forgot I was making up a test in the back row. But anyway, back to Mutt. Oh, sure, he was good looking enough, but a lot of girls in our – I gag when I am forced to remember that, by some unhappy mistake, we are the same age and grade – classes are obsessed with him. It's pathetic. And don't start on that 'denial' junk… I get that enough from Juliet, my friend. It's not denial; he put motorcycle oil in my bunk, stole most of my books and scattered them around the bathrooms, and stole all of my underclothes while I was asleep and threw them around the schoolyard. Yeah, and Juliet seems to think that the fact I hate his guts is denial. I ask you; hasn't the girl cracked?

Oh, wait… I've done it again. I've gone and blabbed about my problems – I'm a selfish idiot, I know that, but hey, I'm only human… and you did ask for this story, anyway – and you have no idea who I am. My name is Liadán Kristin Emerson, also known as Kris, seeing as it's nearly impossible to pronounce my first name. I like it; it's Gaelic, or Old English, and it means Grey Lady, or Ghost. I don't know why, but I think that sounds… mysterious. I'm of a terrible normal height, only five feet and five inches, with wavy – I really don't notice these things; blame Juliet for making me notice – brown-blond hair. My eyes are hazel, with no special quality to them, like 'so deep you could drown in them,' or other such nonsense. I'm an 'A' student at my school, with an interest in science, or archaeology – both works, too, though usually science more than the other – and whatever new technology may be out. I have an interesting knack for remembering this that wouldn't be useful for a normal-day girl like myself; I know how to pick locks, work out those new combination-locks easily, hack machinery, hotwire cars – I've only ever tried this once, and it was on my mom's car, because I had lost the key – and remember things that seem insignificant at the time that actually deem important. They're all useless, of course, being a student, except for the last one… I try my best not to flaunt my other abilities, because frankly, I don't really want to go to jail for stealing something. Anyone else, go ahead, but I'd rather ignore my accidental skills and focus on my classes and my studies – hey, don't say anything! I'm being serious! Sort of.

Although I've been told I have a practical way at looking at things, my head is always in the clouds, and I wish… well, I wish I could go on an adventure, like the ones you read about in books, or the ones you see in those new cinemas. With fighting, a treasure, or some sort of goal, new places and people – that includes weather, too, because I'm just weird like that and notice those sort of things – seeing things that people say don't exist, or that it's just a fairy story, legend, or something to scare the kids into doing what they're told, and, of course, every girl's dream; romance. I mean, it happens, right? That was the one thing – with many su-qualities, of course – I had always wanted to go, but everyone knows what they say; be careful what you wish for. It might come true. Well, this is probably all rubbish to you, so let me start with how it all began, on a day much like this – raining off and on, and a little chilly for spring – not too long ago…


	2. A Nemesis and Flying Pens

Right

**DISCLAIMER/NOTE:** I don't own Indy, Mutt, or Sallah. I only own Kris, as of now. And here's the next chapter… a bit of a long one, but I'm prone to babble in my stories. Mutt might seemed a little OOC here, but that's just because he and Kris had hated each other for two years now, so…

Thanks to **Time and Fate**, **FlyingHampsterOfDoom**, and **iccle fairy** for reviewing!

He was everyone's favorite teacher; I was no exception. Although Professor Jones wasn't the youngest teacher there – a fact that my hormone-struck classmates seemed to find very important; perverts – he was exciting, and seemed to know everything as though he had seen it hands-on, which much of the material, he actually had. I was maybe one of two, possibly three students that were aware of his 'other' job, and I had no inclination to tell anyone. I mean, I had been eavesdropping on something that wasn't my business… if you call being forgotten in the back of the classroom while taking a test eavesdropping. Most people don't, so I have a clear conscience on that. In fact, there was only one thing that was bad about Professor Jones' class; the person that sat behind me. Damn that Mutt Williams, or whatever name he had decided on using that day. He seemed to pass all of his classes, but how was a mystery to me; he was an insolent, smart-mouthed grease-monkey – a word I use for him as I pointedly ignore that I've hijacked a few cars before, which is quite a bit worse than that – with no respect for anyone of the opposite gender. Well, maybe he has respect for his mum, but certainly not for me, as I've learned the hard way. Multiple times.

Today was no different. Kicking the back of someone's chair isn't too bad; it's simply annoying, but throwing pens at the back of that said someone's head is messy, and a good deal painful, too. The first two, I had managed to duck, and let them hit the papers in front of me with a muffled thump, but the third one struck me soundly behind one ear. Growling to myself, I took a quick look at the Professor; good. He was still in a long speech about ancient Egypt, and currently was looking in this direction. I picked up the pen, and turned around to glare at the boy behind me.

"Damn it, Mutt." I hissed. "Cut it out!" I chucked the pen back at him, and quickly faced back front. I heard whispers behind me, and knew that he was laughing about my response with his friends that sat nearby. Letting out a slow breath, I went back to writing the notes, even though I had researched about Egypt multiple times, and knew all of the information he was saying anyway. Mutt poked me hard in the back with a pen – surprise, surprise – and with another slow exhale, I turned halfway around. "What? Need to try and get ink on my face, too?" For a moment, there was silence, and then it spoke. Yes; I often referred to him as an 'it.' Made me feel better; I couldn't help it.

"Owch – why so touchy? Well, I guess being alone in the house almost all the time does something to your brain…" I ground my teeth, and attempted to keep calm. He always got under my skin, but now that he found out that my dad had left my mum and I a couple years back, and that she wasn't home that much, he was doing his best to make my life a living Hell, and was succeeding marvelously. "Yes, that must be it… she's probably bringing a different guy home every night. What a slut…"

"That's it!" I snapped; instantly, the class went silent. I stood up, my chair tumbling down behind me. I spun around all the way, stepping up the last step. Mutt had stood up; although he was a full hand, most likely more, taller than me, I grabbed the front of his shirt and dragged him down so we were on eye level. "Don't. You. Dare. Say. That. About. My. Mother!" He ducked as I tried to punch him, and pulled my legs from underneath me, and I proceeded to begin falling down the steps; as I fell, someone caught me from behind, keeping me from falling and hurting myself. The class, which had begun yelling as the short fight ensued, fell silent yet again. I slowly looked up, feeling dread pool to the bottom of my stomach. Professor Jones helped me back up, and looked back from me, to Mutt. I felt the beginnings of a flush go to my cheeks, but I bit it down, settling to stare defiantly – well, as defiantly as I could manage – back at my teacher.

"Mr. Jones, Miss Emerson, see me after class. Both of you, sit down." I proceeded to pick up my chair, and sit down, gripping the edge of my desk hard. For a moment, everyone was staring at Mutt and myself; thankfully, the bell rang at that moment, and everyone made a swift and strangely silent exit out the door. I shoved my things into my bag, slung it over my shoulder, and walked down to stand in front of the teacher's desk. Mutt came down and stood next to me, pushing his hair back with a comb. Well, I had to give him one thing; he cared about his personal hygiene. Not all the boys did, and those who didn't, well, everyone certainly knew who they were… it was hard not to. Professor Jones walked from the door to stand behind his desk, facing us. For a moment, he simply looked down at the wood, but slowly looked up to stare both of us – how he could at the same time, I'll never know – in the eye. I shifted uncomfortably.

"Would one of you care to explain?" Mutt and I glanced at each other – all right, mine was more of a glare – before looking away. Both of us were silent as the professor looked back and forth at us. "All right; maybe I wasn't making myself clear. I want one of you to tell me why you started fighting in my class. Now." I exchanged glances with the boy still standing next to me; I wasn't going to rat him out, and get grief for it later. I wasn't an idiot. To my surprise, I heard Mutt say something under his breath; automatically, his father turned to stare him down. "I didn't quite catch that."

"I said, I insulted someone who I didn't know she was that close to." He muttered, looking over the professor's shoulder. Against my wishes, I snorted, causing both of them the look at me; well, he had attempted to tell the truth, so I was in the clear.

"Of course. No one's close to their mothers, ay? So of course I wouldn't mind if you insulted her. Silly me." Mutt turned to face me, and I saw that his hands were clenched into fists. Immediately, I fixed my posture so that if he tried to hit me, I could duck – after a year of this already, I knew what to expect from him. Another thing I had to give him; he taught me to be able to fight. Well, at least hit.

"Well, you didn't have to go and overreact like that." Mutt argued back, clearly getting angry. Hey, that was no surprise; I was already furious. "You tried to punch me!"

"Well, you tripped me!"

"As self-defense!"

"So the pens were also in self defense?"

"Yes, idiot!"

"Jerk!"

"Nerd!"

"Git!"

"Hey! Both of you! Shut up!" Although I was still a hand and a half shorter than Mutt, we were once again staring at each other, hostility practically radiating about us. Professor Jones' shout caught us both by surprise (Well, at least me. I had never been told to 'shut up' by a teacher before… I wasn't sure about the person standing next to me). He came around his desk and forcibly pushed both of us apart. "You two - " The sound of feet thundering down the footsteps cut him off. We all turned to look at the door (or, in my case, simply look up, seeing as I was facing the door already), and I flinched as the door banged open. A slightly elderly man skidded to a halt inside the classroom, pausing for a moment to lean on his knees and regain his breath. He appeared to be Indian, or something along those lines – Egyptian, Iraqi, etc. – and had dark brown hair, and a beard. He looked up, glancing behind him as though something was chasing after him.

"Indy!" He panted. "They're coming!" The professor seemed to not understand for half of a second, and then swore. The man slammed the door shut, and began piling chairs against it, while the professor – whom the man had confirmed my suspicions about him being Indiana Jones – dragged Mutt and I to the back of the classroom, where the supplies closet was. As we went back, the idiot – I presume you know who I mean – was questioning his father about what was going on, to which the professor replied with a multiple 'Not now!'s. He threw open the closet, and pushed both of us inside. As the door began to shake as someone hit it, Mutt's accusations grew more and more heated.

"Junior, not now. I'll explain everything later – and don't leave until you hear nothing out here, got it?" Without waiting for an answer, Professor Jones – Indiana – slammed the door shut. Beyond him, I saw the front door bang open, the chairs scattering. Mutt and I fell silent as the darkness swamped in, and we both listened outside the door to what was going on outside. A voice was shouting beyond the door, and the professor was answering back in a yell, and the man was attempting to interject; other voices joined the first one, and the sound of loud thumps echoed past the door. I felt, rather that saw, Mutt lunge for the door and try to get out; I grabbed his arm as it flew past me, pushing him back. I had never been in a situation like this before, but it was my guess, that when someone hid you on purpose, getting yourself killed wasn't the smartest thing in the world. Only a hunch, of course, but apparently, the person with me didn't think so. He struggled, but as the noise outside grew louder, I kicked him, and he fell silent. The sounds of a scuffle were going on, and something that sounded suspiciously like… the crack of a whip? I heard the shattering of broken glass, and a scream of pain. Suddenly, a noise that even I would recognize made everything go silent… it was the firing of a gun. From the lack of shouts, I guessed that it had been a warning shot, and nobody had gotten hit. Voices conversed outside again, and the sound of feet preceded the slamming of the door, and then… silence. We waited noiselessly, but as the minutes ticked by, we began to realize that… no one was there. Whatever had happened outside the door was over, but apparently, either there was no one left to get us, or we had been forgotten. As that thought crossed my mind, Mutt yanked his arm away, and began banging on the door, and trying to open it. He swore, and hit it again, clearly furious.

"Locked!" He muttered, and began to hit it again. Sighing, and mentally rolling my eyes, I went through my pocket and found my small set of lock-picks. I shoved past him, and knelt by where the sliver of light showing where the lock was fell. Sizing it up for a moment, I went through the selection I had with me, chose two, and proceeded to pick the lock. The door swung open, and I looked up to see Mutt's startled face. "How'd you – how'd you open the door?"

"I picked the lock." My voice was matter-of-fact, and I could tell that my expression was amused as I stood, and opened the door all of the way…

**NOTE:** Hmm… I love cliffhangers, even if they aren't that good, so there you are. nod


	3. An Encounter and Shameless Flirting

Right

**DISCLAIMER/NOTE:** I don't own Shorty, Mutt, or any of the mentioned Indiana Jones characters. However, I do own Kris and Kyle, whom we may or may not see later.

The normally neat – well, relatively – classroom was in a shambles. Chairs were smashed, and everywhere, as well as desks, bulletin boards, and the fluttering remains of maps and books. One window was smashed through – it was human-ish shaped, showing what had been thrown out – and remnants of what appeared to be a sword lay scattered around a deep gash in the desk. I walked to it, wide-eyed, my mouth dropping open. I had never seen a place so thoroughly destructed before. Mutt looked just as shocked as me, but not about the mess; he, apparently, got out more. He picked up – my eyes grew even wider as I saw it – a whip, and stared at it hopelessly.

"Damn it. They got him." He rolled up the whip smartly, and put it over one shoulder. Apparently forgetting I was still in the room, he began to head to the door. I put a hand on it as he started to walk out, forcing him back. For a moment, he stared at me, and seemed to understand the look I was giving him. He groaned, and waved me after him. As he walked down the deserted corridor, I became aware that it was a lot later than it had seemed; at least an hour and a half had gone by, and all the students had left. Nervously keeping up with Mutt, I noticed that we were heading to the 'Teacher Barracks,' as they were affectionately called by the students. Ignoring the 'Keep Out' sign, he entered the townhouse at the far end, held the door open for me – a shock; he had never bother to pretend to be polite to me as far as I could remember – and began to rush around inside the house. I looked around as he did so, marveling at the amount of artifacts inside. This confirmed my conclusion even more than it already had, if that were possible. Mutt threw a backpack on the main desk near where I stood, and began stuffing a number of things into it, including the whip, and a hat that had been sitting on a chair. He zipped the backpack shut, and began to head to the door, with me on his heels. As he reached the door, he turned around, glaring. "You stay here. You're not coming."

I crossed my arms, and returned the hostile staring match. "Look. If it wasn't for me, you'd still be locked in that closet back in the classroom. You aren't leaving me behind, even if that means stalking you. It's not for your sake that I'm doing this; Professor Jones… well, if it's possible for a student to be friends with a professor, that'd be it. And besides…" I slowly began to smile. "Every state needs its own help." I brushed past him; he seemed to have understood my meaning exactly. Dumbly, he followed me as we went into the parlor, threw open the door – and were stopped by a Chinese man, a little bit older than us, about to knock. For a moment, everyone was silent; the man broke it.

"'Scuse me." His accent was thick, though he obviously spoke English fluently; he barely had any trouble with grammar, or whatever. "I am a friend of Dr. Jones. Is his son here?" I looked back at Mutt, an eyebrow raised. He looked as confused as me, which was rather a surprise, though strangely comforting.

"That's me." He said slowly; the man nodded, smiling.

"I thought so. I know where your father is." He beckoned for us to follow, and walked down the three steps that led to the front door. When he noticed that we weren't following, he turned yet again. "Oh! My name is Short Round. Shorty?" Once again, I looked back at Mutt; the look of confusion was wiped away by recognition, and he began to follow… Shorty. I walked after them, completely at loss; I had no idea what was going on. As we quickened the pace, he began to explain. "He and his friend are being temporarily held at the nearby prison until the rest of them come. They told the officers that they have convicted an act of terrorism, and are on their way to be sentenced."

"Terrorism?" Mutt's anger was clear as his voice rose. "What kind of bastards would think that about my father? He's a damn war hero, and Sallah is, too!" I was about to ask who Sallah was, but decided that now was probably not the best time to ask questions. We arrived at a rather old-fashioned car. Shorty pointed for both of us to sit in the back, which we did. As I slid in on the right side, Mutt on the left, and our guide in the front, he turned back to look at me.

"Oh! Lady, who're you?" For a moment, I was surprised at being addressed; I barely shook my head to clear my thoughts before answering.

"Kris. Kris Emerson. I'm a… friend of Dr. Jones." I left off anything about Mutt, not wanting to start yet another argument. It was partly our fault that he had been caught, after all; if we hadn't held him behind because of our fight in class, he might have had a chance to get away, and not have to fight the whoever-they-weres. "Uh… by the way… would someone care to explain what's going on?" Both of them turned to look at me; Shorty looked surprised, Mutt simply annoyed. "What? It would be useful to know what was going on."

"She doesn't know?" He turned back to watch the traffic, speaking over his shoulder to my sort of arch-nemesis. "Why is she with you and not know what is going on?"

"Long story." Mutt's voice was short, and he stared out the window for a moment. "Well, you know who my dad is part-time… in journeys that anyone would take to find unknown or legendary… things, you run into people who want to get there first, and would do anything to keep you from finding it first. That's who those people are, like with the Nazi's when he found the Ark of the Covenant, and the Russians for the Crystal Skull." For a moment, I was silent, and stared out the window; I had heard legends of those ventures, but had never quite believe them. They sounded too fantastic… but if those were real, what about the others I had heard about?

"What is it this time?" Instead of asking the first question that had come to my mind, I settled on that. I was curious, really; what would make someone accuse an innocent man of being a terrorist just to be able to hold him in a jail? Once again, the two men were silent; Mutt answered hesitantly.

"He thinks…" One again, he paused. "He thinks he might have found the way to Atlantis." Both of them seemed to be waiting for me to laugh, and say that they were insane, and run off… it had crossed my mind, but somehow, I believed them.

"Does he have any idea where it might be?" Once again, my question threw them off.

"No." Mutt lost some of his composure as he grew more and more surprised. "No. He was going to tell me after class – after you left – but they cam before he could tell me."

"Huh." The three of us fell silent, and I settled for looking out the window as the houses streamed past. We had finally gotten out of the traffic, and were leaving the outskirts of the town, and into the main portion, where the prison was. A rather silly place to have one, but at the time this place was built, that made sense. That was certainly strange. I fiddled with the strap of my messenger bag; most of my books had been knocked out as Mutt and I had been shoved into the closet, but there was one left, and some paper and at least one pen. My lock picks and penknife had been shoved in there as well; I didn't have all of my usual breaking-and-entering tools with me, but they'd have to do. Shorty pulled into a lot that was down from the jail, and we all got out, staring at the building.

"Anyone have any ideas?" The Chinese man said, sizing up the building and looking worried. I watched it for a moment, and nodded, a slow smile coming up on my face. It seemed it was time to prove that I wouldn't simply be extra baggage to them.

"If you can get your hands on some sort of printer, I think I can pull something off… all I need is fifteen minutes." I looked at both of them; they exchanged glances, and shrugged at me. Grinning, I saluted smartly, and began to walk briskly down the sidewalk, squaring my shoulders. What I had in mind was most likely illegal, but for some reason, I wasn't too nervous… simply excited. What that said about my mind, I'll never know. As I walked into the first row of doors, I quickly took my hair down… shameless flirting, check, bag, check, heavy book, check… it was time. Taking a deep breath, I walked inside, pretending to look nervous, as if I didn't want to be anywhere near this place. A man, about Shorty's age – that was good for my plan, I had struck lucky there – looked up, and suddenly looked nervous. Why, I didn't know… someone had complimented me once when I had my hair down, but by no means was I beautiful. I picked up a carefully falsetto voice, looking around.

"Excuse me, sir." That was good; high and fluttery, but realistic, and nowhere near my own voice. "I'm here to visit my uncle… he hasn't been moved yet, has he? Normally I wouldn't think of seeing him – he's not the nicest man in the world – but my mother told me I should see him."

"Um… I don't know. What's his name?" The man, whose name tag told me his name was Kyle Schwartz, stood up, scratching the back of his neck.

It was time to throw caution to the wind. "Henry Jones, sir." Thankfully, he didn't seem to find anything interesting about that name, and proceeded to flip through a clipboard nervously, watching me as he flipped through the pages.

"Uh, yeah. He's here. Cell 8H. Oh – what's your name, anyway?"

"Veronica." I looked at him from under my eyelashes, which I had seen girls do before, and he seemed to grow slightly more awkward. How strange; it was actually working. I had picked the most random, common name I could think of, and he bought it. "Veronica Jones."

"Yeah. Oh, right – this way." He opened a door at the far end; we passed several rows, until we got to the on labeled with a giant black 'H.' He motioned for me to wait, and walked down four cells, looking into one of them. "Visitor for you, Mr. Jones. Your niece, Veronica." I heard someone stand up, and Kyle waved for me to follow him, and I walked down; the officer moved away, down to the end of the row. Professor Jones looked carefully uninterested, and I could see no bit of surprise as I looked at him, even though he knew I was clearly Liadán Emerson, a student from his class, and not the made-up Veronica Jones; he was good at this sort of thing.

"What are you in for this time, Uncle Henry?" For an almost impossible short fragment of time, the professor raised an eyebrow. I would apologize that, but for now, I had to keep up the charade. Thankfully, he was used to having to fake things out; I knew that for a fact.

"An act of terrorism." His voice was so matter-of-fact that I almost laughed; instead, I took a step back, acting horrified.

"What! After all those years of helping the United States, you've turned against us?" I put a hand over my heart; I was being over-dramatic, but I had to put up a good show for Officer Schwartz for the rest of the plan, however strange it might be, to work. If it didn't, we – it was strange to think of Dr. Jones, Mutt, Shorty, and this 'Sallah' character, whoever he was, as a 'we'… I believed I just got my wish answered in the strangest way – but, by circumstance, we were. The professor looked at me with an unfathomable look, though I could tell he was amused by my sudden display of acting.

"I didn't say I did, though it's true the Soviets pay more." Stumbling back, horrified, I pretended to trip; Schwartz came up and caught me, clearly concerned. As he helped me back to my feet, I winked at the professor; he barely nodded in return. Good… he was in on the plan. The officer supported me away, thinking that I had been severely affected about what my 'uncle' had just said.

"Oh, Kyle." I said, dragging my feet to make him stop – the bathrooms were nearby. I could see them; once again, perfect for my plan. I looked up at him, with horribly fake 'Bambi Eyes….' And he fell for it, hook, line, and sinker. I put up with kissing him, as we sort of awkwardly shuffled into the bathroom – I would wipe my mouth with antiseptic later… well, Kyle wasn't bad looking, but I wasn't a Veronica, and would be a criminal after this, so it wouldn't work out – and let him sort of half-put me up on the sink. I let one hand shift down to my bag; he didn't notice as I pulled the hardback book slowly out of the sack. Raising it slowly, I brought it down hard on the back of his head, and he blacked out instantly. Pushing him off me, I proceeded to get his ID card, and pulled off his uniform. There was a closet in the bathroom, which I stuffed him in; after placing the stolen items in my bag, I exited the bathroom serenely, and waved to the new desk guard as I went out, and tried not to run to the parking lot until I was out of sight of the window.

Hmm… this 'illegal' stuff was getting easier all the time. Well, not exactly illegal, but I'm sure knocking out an officer wouldn't earn me any brownie points.

**NOTE:** So? Should I add in Kyle later, or what? I'm honestly curious. Also, I have been experiencing computer problems, so if there is a long gap between chapters, don't give up on me. Thanks for reading!


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